What we are and what we could be
by Pichitinha
Summary: How could this happen? He should have been faster. Now Dick might die and it's all his fault.


Blinking is not an option. Blinking means closing his eyes, and even if briefly, it's enough. Every time the darkness finds his vision for a millisecond, the flashbacks appear. He sees in slow motion as it displays in front of him, scene after scene every time he closes his eyes. He sees the gun. He sees the guy. He sees the wound. He sees _Dick_.

His lungs feel like they're filled with water as he tries to breathe. This can't be happening, it _can't_. And still the hospital smell and the whiteness and morbid silence show him that it _is_.

He wants to cry, but he refuses. It's _his_ fault. He can't cry. Crying should be left for those who truly care and would have _fucking done something_.

But his heart clenches at every possible thought and it's hard to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall. He just wants everything to be okay. Dick can hate him, _should_ hate him, but it's fine _as long as he's fine_.

It's been hours already. He's far from the room because there's too much family and he just wants to be alone and far away from the judgmental and angry looks he knows he'll be receiving. He deserves them, but it'd be too much right now.

He should've acted faster. He spent too much thinking about his secret ID, too many wasted seconds, and it could cost Dick's life.

The thought made his knees weak.

They'd played around their feelings for ages, afraid of many things. Crushing on your best friend is hard. Crushing on your best friend of the same sex when you're still confused about your sexuality is _harder_. Crushing on your best friend of the same sex when you're still confused about your sexuality because your father was an abusive homophobic… hard can't actually cover it.

So Wally, for his part, had been super reluctant about acting on his feelings. _They're gonna go away some time, just wait, it's just a crush, calm down_. He repeated that for two years until he finally understood that it _wasn't_. Those feelings, whatever they were, were real and there and getting bigger all the time. There was no use in denying them.

But they were two stupid teenagers in love with their best friends and scared to admit it. As cliché as it was, their friendship was the most important thing and losing it simply wasn't an option. So they pinned around their obvious feelings forever, moving from not knowing it was mutual to being very aware it was in such a swift motion that it felt _normal_. They knew it and it was there and they just _let_ it be. It was complicated.

That, of course, until they _accidently_ got drunk and made out. Several times. So many times that drunk became _dizzy_ and dizzy became _tipsy_ and tipsy became _happy_ and happy became _I think I drank some alcohol in the past week?_

And that's when they decided that they were stupid. Everyone knew already and those who didn't think they were already a couple would tease them forever asking _why_ they weren't together and really, why weren't they? There was no excuses left, nothing to stop them. They had just fallen into an easy routine during rough times and were so engulfed in it they didn't even consider moving forward when the storm passed. But that was over and they should act like adults.

And that's when everything happened.

It was their first _real_ date. They decided to go out in Bludhaven, since Dick knew the good places where they wouldn't be bothered by any acquaintances. And it had been all good and perfect until they got out of the restaurant and were met with a masked thief. One that apparently held a huge grudge on Dick because he had put his brother in prison.

Wally wishes he could say he didn't have time to process, but he did. He saw as the three bullets left the guy's gun in slow motion, slowly heading towards his _sort of boyfriend sort of not_ torso. He had time to run Dick to another city before the bullets hit half way, but he didn't. He stood there in shock. _Weak_. He was weak and his weakness had caused Dick pain and everything that would come now.

And he can't stand the thought that Dick might die in that OR _because of him_ and that they didn't really enjoy their time together because they were _stupid_. They wasted _years_ on not being together when they could simply _be_.

He thinks back to all the make out sessions when they had said _I love you_ and then afterwards pretended it didn't happen. To all the stolen glances and the sexual tension and the pure _want_. To the sorrow and the sadness and the longing.

Hours later when they come to tell him that he's stable but unconscious he finds it a little bit easier to breathe. It's too soon to say how he is – they need him to wake on his own. But he's in a room and he can have visitors.

He lets everyone in before he does. He waits for every family member and every friend that wants to see him to leave. And he longs and dreads at the same time as to when it'll be his turn.

When everyone is out for some coffee or food and Dick is alone, he lets himself get closer. The room is a few steps away and he doesn't think he's ever walked that slowly.

He can see from his distance Dick's form on the bed from the tiny window.

 _How could this happen? He should have been faster. Now Dick might die and it's all his fault_.

He enters the room silently even though he knows Dick won't wake up. He moves a chair close to the bed and sits in it, taking one of Dick's hands in his. It's so _cold_.

He finally lets himself cry. His vision blurs with accumulating tears and he just wants Dick to wake up and to be okay. He just wants to have what they should have had ages ago. He just wants to be with him.

He doesn't know for how long he's in there, but he falls asleep at some point, his head on the bed and Dick's hand still trapped inside his.

And he dreams of many things, both possible and impossible, and in all of them Dick is there. Sometimes he's smiling, sometimes he's crying, sometimes he screams and sometimes he doesn't.

But in the morning when he wakes up, he knows what woke him. He feels the sensation in his dreams and he feels the sensation in the real world as he comes to it.

Dick's squeezing his hand.


End file.
